


Chapter Fifty-Five: Of The Machine

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [56]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two
Genre: Astronomy, Dimension Travel, Enabling, Gen, Other, Rescue Missions, Side Quests, Spatial Anomaly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the <strike>stolen</strike> <i>requisitioned</i> shuttle through a dimensional rift, the crew of the <i>Lost Light</i> come face to face with a near-mythic part of their history: Luna 1, the Seething Moon, dead in space. And while Rodimus leads the away team to rescue Ultra Magnus, the Security Team is focused on keeping the ship under some semblance of order, all while staying north of sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Five: Of The Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Song: ["Of The Machine"](https://open.spotify.com/track/4U7MxOfu77d6CN6XkhNIk5) by Shiv-R, from _Wax Wings Will Burn_

Auditorium

The _Lost Light_

Now

Six megacycles ago, the security detail had broken up an impending riot there. Now, nearly the full roster had assembled, sitting on the bleachers surrounding the podium in rapt attention, staring up at the spacial anomaly filling the observation window.

All save Whirl, who whined, banging his head against Artemis's shoulder. "Not again, boss!" he whined. "Not again!"

"Mind not doing that?" Trailcutter grumbled against her helm. They managed to nip a couple megacycles' recharge before Rodimus called the entire crew for a mandatory meeting. Currently, Perceptor had the floor, explaining the rift in detail. Artemis's attention was neither on the empurata, nor her companion, but on the scientist explaining the science behind the rift in vast detail.

_I've heard this before. Seen this before._

"Frag, it's Betelgeuse IV all over again!" Whirl shared the sentiment, tossing his head back and pitching backward into Hoist's lap. The engineer protested, planting his foot against Whirl's back and shoving him forward into Blades. A scuffle broke out between the two rotor-fliers before Brawn had enough and forced both into a headlock, one under each arm.

"Care to translate?" Artemis's partner questioned, the low rumble for her audio receptors only. Two megacycles was not enough to take the edge off of his exhaustion.

"It's a dimensional rift," she whispered. "Similar to what we were chasing back during the Conflict. Thing is, and if I'm understanding Perceptor, this one's stable...been open for a long time."

"And somehow, Magnus, unconscious, piloted a stolen shuttle — "

" — requisitioned — "

" — a _requisitioned_ shuttle through said rift." He settled his head against her shoulder as though to steal a couple more cycles of recharge. "So why would the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord requisition a shuttle while in a medically induced coma to travel through a dimensional rift?"

"He says, while semiconscious," Hoist narrated.

"I used to go halfway across the Arm to go to this one little diner orbiting Gliese-587b solely for their chromium-fried energy crisps," Landmine, to Artemis's left, whispered. "Well, that and the cute waitress who worked the overnight there. She had some serious radials that put Caminean speedsters to shame."

"I should introduce you to Creep," Cavalier retorted, climbing over Waverider to settle in Landmine's lap, if only to get close to her roommate. "So, you thinking what I'm thinking, boss lady?"

"Matrix Quest, part two?" Artemis sighed, sinking into Trailcutter's sleepy embrace. "Primus, I hope not. I've been working on forgetting that chapter in my life."

"Seeing that Perceptor left us at the station," Landmine leaned closer to Artemis, "mind giving us the laymech's explanation?"

"Cav's better at that than I am," Artemis admitted. "I was only the fraggin' courier."

"Ever seen _Stargate_?" The white and black Minibot initiated.

"I have!" Smokescreen chirped from next to Sunstreaker.

"Okay, for the viewers at home who need to follow along," Cavalier held up all her fingers in one hand, and the index on the other, "there's six sides to a cube. This represents three-dimensional space. These are how you get your coordinates. Points A and B on your X, Y, and Zed — well, Z, but Sky — Jetfire — always called it Zed and it just sounded sexy when he said it — so your X, Y, and Zed coordinates, and where they intersected, that would be your destination. But the thing is, there's three more points to consider. Give me a moment, there were awful lot of casualties that sol — okay, so the three points also include one temporal, one duration, and finally an iteration for which the pattern repeats. You still with me?"

"Jetfire does have a sexy voice," Waverider admitted.

"That damned Vosian accent doesn't help matters," Artemis chortled. "And no, Cav, I think they lost you."

"Pfft. Losers. Okay, so this thing?" The Minibot flicked her thumb to the anomaly engulfing the star field before them. "This thing's ignoring the rules of engagement. It's ignoring the temporal aspects. And frankly? It's scaring the beprimus outta me. We nearly blew out the _Spoils'_ engines as well as the Matrix itself to keep the rift open to grab Rod for, like, what? Fifty clicks? Maybe a full cycle?"

Artemis sucked an intake through her vents.

"Wait, what?" Waverider demanded.

"She exaggerates," Smokescreen harrumphed, a practised segue. "Ever seen the output of a Warworld at full power? Thing radiates like a main phase Oh-2 star. Crazy Wreckers, our Cav and Art are — things they do in the name of galactic peace."

Trailcutter snored softly, face buried against Artemis's neck.

"How do you put up with that?" Landmine questioned.

"If this is him at his worst, he can fall asleep on my shoulder during a mandatory assembly any time he wants," she countered. "Only problem is he tends to _nibble_!" The last part, she delivered a half-octave higher than normal, gritting her teeth and jerking her head to the left. Behind her, Hoist groaned. "Would you like to trade places?" she suggested.

Her comm pinged. Careful not disturb her sleeping companion, she slipped the device from its holster and checked the screen. "Huh."

"What's shaking, boss lady?" Cavalier questioned.

_Don't argue. I need you here running support with Max and Hound._

Artemis looked up, meeting the captain's gaze from behind the lecturing scientist. Rodimus returned his attention to the comm unit in his hands.

_Yeah. We're going in. We'll find Magnus, bring him home. But I need you here._

_I'm treating this as a rescue mission with scientific significance. I'm taking Cyclonus, Whirl, and Perceptor for back-up._

_I need you to trust me on this._

A break in the messages, then, _Ratchet's coming too. He's already chewed me out for putting you back on active roster over his head._

She was limited in dexterity for typing, so she kept her reply brief. _Is it worth the risk?_ She glanced back up, finding that Rodimus had done the same, flashing his cocksure grin before resuming his texting.

_You said it, and I agree 110%: we need him. We'll bring him home. I promise you, we'll bring him home. Please, run support for Max and Hound._

Once more, she met Rodimus's optics.

And nodded.

"What's that about?" Cavalier whispered.

Artemis did not answer straight away, as Perceptor wrapped up his explanation of the phenomena. ("About fragging time," Sunstreaker groused.)

Then Rodimus took to the floor.

"About to find out," the black and chrome mech muttered, holstering her comm.

Even with advance warning, Rodimus's announcement was a bombshell. There wasn't going to be an away mission.

The _Lost Light_ was going in through the rift.

All or nothing.

And while the questions rippled across the auditorium, only Cavalier and Artemis remained silent: The _Lost Light_ would be able to punch through the rift in the case it closed behind them.

In theory.

Already, Artemis snapped into squad leader mode. Keeping her voice low, she ordered, "Cav, on the bridge with Blaster and Mainframe. Bring them up to speed — hope you remembered Sky's instructions. Hoist, work with Dipstick on engine outputs; Cav's gonna need numbers to crunch for escape punch, if needed."

"It is Matrix Quest, Part Two, isn't it?" Cavalier whined.

"Search and rescue operations," Artemis retorted.

"And how about us?" Hoist hissed. "You're going to bring us to speed?"

"Be happy to, but after we mobilise." The former Wrecker shrugged her remaining shoulder, jostling Trailcutter's head. "C'mon, big guy, wake up, we got work to do."

"Five more cycles," he muttered.

Artemis turned her head. "Hoist? A hand?"

"Don't look at me," the grey-green engineer snarked, "You accepted responsibility for him when you — " His optics grew large, his faceplate moving up and down in an abortion of thoughts to words as he pointed to the overhead view. Artemis's gaze followed his gesture, catching others sporting equally shocked expressions, before settling on a dark planetoid taking up the majority of the field. Questions delivered in hushed whispers infected the crew.

"'Oi, 'Cutter," she shrugged again, unable to hide her own awe. "You gotta see this."

He groaned, lifting his head away from her shoulder as his optics flickered online, focusing on the planetoid above them. "Wha' th'hell?" he slurred, straightening his posture.

"Landmine, crowd control," Artemis hissed, gaze unfaltering on the mechanoid moon. "Waverider, tap Xaaron; if that's what I'm thinking it is, we may have some existential crises on our hands."

"On it," Landmine agreed, removing the stunned Cavalier from his lap as though she were a tame turbofox, transferring her to his vacated seat.

"Art, that's a Cybertronian moon," Cavalier whimpered. "Frag, we're not in that pocket 'verse, are we? I mean, that looks like a Cybertronian moon."

"All the more reason for you to get to work. Oi, Blaster, you getting this?"

_"You bet I am! Initial telemetry's coming back negative, but I'm not giving up!"_

"I'm sending Cav up to give you a hand; she'll fill you in on what we know." Artemis nodded toward the exit. "Brat, mobilise."

"On it, Prime," Cavalier shook off her stupor and slipped between the bleacher seats for easy escape.

Smokescreen claimed the twice-vacated spot next to Artemis as Grapple, followed by his brother Inferno, crept through the crowd to join their group. "Why do some call you that?" Grapple demanded, settling in next to Hoist.

"Wrecker call sign," the Praxian speedster beat Artemis to the answer. "Seriously, you should have seen her in action during the Legion Conflict. Springer may have been commander, but when Art talked, you listened and you listened good. It was Jazz's fault, really; he started by calling her the Wrecker Prime and it stuck. 'If you don't like it,' he said to her, 'don't act like one.' But that's like telling her to sit back and twiddle her thumbs. Like she is now, you know, taking it easy and letting everyone else scramble in circles."

"How most nicks start," Artemis grumbled, giving Smokescreen a nod of thanks; if anything, the kid knew how to segue out of an awkward situation. "I never cared for it. Back on topic, boys: Grapple, anything you can tell us about this by sight?"

Grapple exhaled, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. "Spires are definitely Cybertronian, or at least a colony thereof, but unless I can see some higher-res imaging, I can't pinpoint the era."

"Work with Blaster and crew — Rod's gonna need to know what to expect."

"It's dead," Trailcutter whispered, sadness creeping in his words. "It's like we're at a funeral. There's sleeping and then there's...that world feels dead."

"He says funny things when he's waking up," Hoist reminded, standing. "Anything you can give me on the _Spoils'_ engine output that I should be made aware of?"

"Cav should have all you need; you have her direct comm-address?"

Trailcutter excavated his own comm and with one thumb, tapped out a quick message, striking "send." "Fair warning," he mumbled, as Hoist's comm chirped an alert, "that once she gets your address, you'll be subject to her shenanigans."

"Evil shenanigans," Smokescreen added.

"Oh, joy. Thank you once again, Artemis, for dragging me into yet another one of your questionable schemes." Hoist stood, with Grapple on his heels, and left to their duties.

"Anything I can do?" Smokescreen questioned.

"Matter of fact, yeah," Artemis nodded. "Gather me a posse. Six to ten 'Bots, ones you know from last night's rabble preferably, and meet me in shuttle bay eleven for assignments."

"Won't lie to you, Art, but whenever you use the words 'posse' and 'shuttle bay eleven', all I can think of is mayhem and destruction," Trailcutter observed as Smokescreen left to his duty with Inferno following.

"You'll see what I'm doing in a bit." She turned her head to meet his gaze. "Last night drained you, didn't it?"

He exhaled, brow against hers. "Wasn't prepped to drop five-hundred square metres of force field on top of a hundred rioters, no."

"Would monitor duty give you time to rest up?"

"Depends — you joining me?"

She chuckled. "Sadly, no. But once I get teams in position, I'll get back in touch with you with patrol info."

"Patrol — "  He held her gaze. "Why?"

"I'll explain why en route to security," she planted her hand on his knee and stood. "Oi, Swerve!" she hailed as she led the way out of the auditorium.

_"We're closed! Due to someone deciding to preempt karaoke night with flying through a dimensional rift .... "_

"Gonna need a delivery to the security office; know how to make a Level of Bad-Aft?"

_"Depends: original recipe or with legal restrictions?"_

"Considering this is for 'Cutter, I'll let you use your discretion. Six pack, served hot, need it delivered within the half-megacycle. Can you pull it off?"

_"Seeing it's my supply runner asking for my favourite customer, I'll see what I can do."_

"You're the tops, Swerve." She cut transmission, slowing her gait for her companion to catch up. "Ever had a Level of Bad-Aft?"

"Seen you in action; does that count?"

"You drink it hot, you drink it slow, and you sit, because it kicks you in the aft. At first. Then it wakes you the frag up and you're raring to go for a good ten megacycles."

"You're expecting trouble?"

"Rod put Max in charge, and while I like Max a lot, he's a warden. He's accustomed to working with crew who are also wardens, law enforcement personnel, security. He's also accustomed with dealing with prisoners. We need to create a bridge to keep the change of leadership style smooth without fraying the wires of either the crew or command. Hence the posse. Little trick I learnt from Roadbuster: you find the troublemakers who are otherwise loyal to the cause and you give them a small level of authority; not too much to abuse but just enough to help your command. Likewise, from what I know about Hound, he's best as a squad leader. So we reorganise departments into squads, thus creating a protocol: 'Captain off ship, high alert, paramilitary guard in effect'."

He stared at her, mouth agape.

"What?" she smirked. "You think Wreckers were all about going in with a 'Frag yeah!' and guns ablazin'? There were protocols to follow. Just that we had a little more freedom to adapt if the situation arose. C'mon, let's get you tucked in."

*

Security Office

Swerve did not disappoint, and Artemis, taking advantage of Ratchet's absence, helped herself to one of the six self-heating cannisters the bartender had provided. But even the glowing reviews from both her and Trailcutter did little to brighten Swerve's mood.

"I wanted to go," the red and white Minibot complained, crossing his arms over his chest. "They could have used a metallurgist! I mean, you heard, right? Luna 1! The Seething Moon! The Lost Colony! And I'm not a part of it! They took Chromedome and Tailgate, but they didn't take me!"

"We're all a part of it," Trailcutter reminded. "Just because we're not moonside doesn't mean we're not part of this quest. Think about it: we found it! This crew!"

"But ... and don't get me wrong, me and the tiny ancient dude are tight, but ... Tailgate?"

"He and Cyclonus probably have datatracks on the Luna colony," Artemis suggested. "As for Chromedome...honestly? He needs a distraction. Get him off the ship for a bit. Trust me, it helps for a change of scenery."

"You wanted to go too," Swerve countered.

She nodded. "Rod asked me to stay behind. Seriously, there's only so much a one-armed ex-merc can do."

"Other than coordinate a ship-wide protocol restructuring while the captain is off-ship?" Trailcutter chortled, settling into the chair that had once been Red Alert's.

"Besides," Artemis placed the spent cannister on the console, "think about the victory party when they bring Magnus back. Very profitable, I'd imagine."

"Someone's gotta prepare for it," Trailcutter continued, "and seeing the only person you trust in your storeroom is Skids — "

"Okay, okay! You don't need to convince me!" Swerve laughed, holding up his hands; still, there was an emptiness to the gesture. "Still, I would have really liked to have been part of the mission...."

"Yeah, it's killing me, too," Artemis admitted, her grin dropping. "But it's a scientific search and rescue, and Rod's got muscle already."

"And that's not saying there might be another expedition once they find Magnus," Trailcutter added. "You know there's going to be other teams heading down once they confirm that it's safe to explore."

"So no worries, eh?" Artemis patted Swerve's shoulder. "Things have a way of working out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get the deputies some marching orders."

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Dark Days


End file.
